54th Hunger Games
by TheFandomKnight
Summary: The time has come for the 54th hunger games to begin. Evanna Ambers is amongst the 24 tributes that have been chosen to fight to the death in an unknown arena, is she willing to change enough to allow her life to be spared?
1. Chapter 1 - The reaping

Chapter 1 – Reaping Day

Today it will be eleven. Today my name will have been written onto eleven pieces of perfectly folded card. There will be eleven chances that my life is about to make a drastic and unwanted change.

Everyone else must be awake I think, looking around my small shared bedroom. Tainted wallpaper peeling from the walls, creaking floorboards and a crooked door that stands ruggedly on the other side; its not much, but we get by, we have to.

Quickly I get changed and pull on my jacket, carefully avoiding the holes in the right arm in case of trapping my hand.

I soon learn that my brother has already left for the fields; probably before sunrise again. Ever since my father fell ill he's been much more solitary, leaving early for work, hardly speaking in the evenings. No longer is he the boy who was funny and always happy, someone who I adored, someone to look up to. He's grown up I guess, taking responsibility for me and my mother despite him being only two years older than myself. I know it upsets him that I had to apply for tesserae this year, but he's got to understand that I am not a little child anymore. This family is as much my responsibility as his, and if getting extra grain and oil means my name is put in more times then so be it.

It's my third reaping. Last year a girl only a year older than I am now was chosen. I knew her, we sowed seeds together and even though we didn't talk much I couldn't help but feel the need to save her, help her in any way I could, she didn't return. She was gone just like the many before her, and the many that are unfortunately to come.

In the other room my mother is boiling water for my father, it's the only warmth we can offer him when the little blankets we have fail. Her bony hands tremble as she struggles to lift up the heavy kettle she is taking over to him. I look at them both, hollow eyes, tired faces, it pains me to think I can't help them as much as I would love to. When he fell ill last month a dark shadow was cast over our small house, days became shorter, colder and filled with my mother's grief. He's dying. My family falling apart with every moment that he gets worse. Medicine that is all he needs, yet that is something which we cannot afford to provide him with. How can this happen? Why is he suffering? Just like many others around here. Why do they have to endure pain when there is a cure?

Due to the lack of money that my father's illness has brought my mother has to work in the factories so we have enough to feed us, and even though me and my brother protest, she insists that we have majority of the little food we get in. Me and my brother work in the grain fields and even though we work the most hours we can around school, money is very tight.

That's what it's like in District 9, being one of the poorest districts many of us struggle to get enough food and money. Being the grain district jobs include harvesting, sowing seeds, working in the factories and occasionally a chance to work at the small stables looking after the few working horses that stay there. My mother, not being strong enough to push the harvesters, started to work in the factories when my father no longer could. I dislike the idea, given the depressing atmosphere and poor conditions that the factories hold, but it's not much different here at the moment.

I greet them with few words, knowing that it is as much as my mother can take. We all know of the day and find it unnecessary to mention it. I quickly help her with the rest of the lifting, then force on my boots and head out our small creaky front door. Outside the eerie atmosphere continues, the streets are almost deserted apart from the handful of peacekeepers, the people that form a gendarmerie controlled by the capitol, who are putting up banners in the market square. None of the stalls seem to be being managed and it appears that all of the shops are closed, despite them looking murky whether open or closed.

I think about what it must be like in the Capitol, the city of Panem, a place where the rich and powerful reside, a place in which district members can do nothing but loath. After the great war of the world Panem was all that was left of North America. The Capitol is where all power now lies and even though there has been a rebellion against it it still remains strong whilst the 12 districts that surround it suffer at its gain. I wonder if anyone there will even spare a thought for the families that will lose loved ones in what is inevitable to come, does anyone there care what happens to us? Think that what is happening is wrong?

But then why would they? A place full of riches, fine clothes foods, impressive housing; they will not be affected by what is to come, to them this is entertainment.

What can be said is that here it is very different. Many people stay at home on reaping days, treasuring the last moments they may have with their children. Dreading who will be the next victim of the Hunger Games.

That's what this is all about, the silence, the fear; it's because of The Hunger Games, where each year, one boy and one girl are chosen from each of the twelve districts at a reaping and are then made to fight to death in an unknown arena. I find it hard to see the elements of entertainment and community it claims to bring.

I follow the long, dusty, dirt track to the main fields, spotting only two people on the way. As I pick up the pace a cloud of dust forms around my feet and clings to my dark trousers. I go to brush it off but realise there is no point when I will only continue to get muddier. It is not until later, in the fields, that I spot my brother; forcing a metal harvester through the field with a look of anger over his face. I wish to speak to him but an approaching peacekeeper reminds me otherwise.

Today we do not have to work, but some of us still do. Not just for the extra money it brings, little as it is. But for the peace of mind and normality it offers us. It seems like the harvesters are stiffer than normal, but it might just be that the mood I'm in is making everything seem worse. Not many girls of my age do this work, but I'm stronger than many of them because of the lifting I've done for a while now, helping my brother in the fields and my cousin who got a job working at the stables.

At 1:00 PM we are told to leave and I wait for my brother by the old rusty gate that is the entrance, we start to walk home in silence.

I know that, given the opportunity he would volunteer for me if I was chosen, and I feel I would do that same, but we both know it can't be done. "Josh," I tell him, "why are you being like this? This is what they want, they want to intimidate us. But that's the thing, you can't let them." He opens his mouth to speak but closes it soon after with no sound being made. I sigh with frustration as we continue our dull journey home.

It's not until later he answers, "It's not that easy, I can't help it. You don't know what it's like". "Yes I do" I snap back, "don't you think I despise what they are doing, don't you think I lay awake a night hoping we won't get chosen, hoping no one will." "But they will, and it could be either of us, both of us even" "Don't…" I start, but I find it hard to find the right thing to say. The rest of trip remains silent and disobliging.

I hate it, I wish he would listen. My biggest fear is that he will get chosen and there will be no way of me helping him, the last proper memory of him being when he was anxious and angry.

We still have an hour to get ready but my mother advises me to start getting ready soon. I nod and go into the back room, I spot a light purple dress lying on my bed but I don't get changed yet. There's somewhere I need to go first, to clear my head. Quietly I go out the back door and run again down the dirt track towards the fields. Just before I get to the gate I change track and head into a small collection of trees towards the tattered stables.

It's one of the few places that isn't riddled with peacekeepers on reaping day. I shouldn't really be here, but right now I don't really care, why should the Capitol control our lives, ruin them?

I stumble over the gate and quietly run around the back where there is a hole in the wall I can just about fit through.

It is here that I can finally relax. I slide down the old wall and cup my hands over my face, breathing deeply as I do so. It will be okay, it has to be. I can't be scared, I won't be. There's no point in me being angry, there's nothing I can do. I won't be scared; they cannot take away everything I have, one day they will see. They will see what they have done.

I start to relax, even if it is only a little bit. I know I can't stay long so I force myself to get up, quickly I adjust my jacket and decide to leave through the main entrance instead, unaware of the danger I may face if caught.

Before leaving I lean over the small stable door on the right, hoping to see Merlin, pitch black and one of the smallest of the working horses he has been my favourite since I first came here, when I was 11.

I break a smile when I see him, happily eating a large mouthful of hay. He looks over at me but continues to eat, as I had expected. It is not until I extend my arm when he decides to come over, nudging it as he walks to the door. I go to stroke him but a large clatter stops me in my tracks. I silently duck behind a hay bale and wait to see if anyone emerges, but no one comes into sight. I decide that I must leave now, if I am to get back in time. I run past the stables from which the clatter came from and glance over to see if anyone is there, but all I can see are three frayed buckets sprawled across the floor. It must have been the wind; or one of the horses, so I start to relax again.

"Who's there?" A bellowing voice echos behind me. It feels as though my heart has fallen into my stomach and my mind is racing with the possible actions I could take. With no time to hide again I sprint over to the gate and climb it as fast as I can. The sound of footsteps increasing behind me forces me to accelerate and I run as fast as I can through the trees and back to the main path, pulling my hood over my head to hide my face and hair. If it is a peacekeeper they will be searching for anyone trying to hide from the reaping, a crime which faces most terrible punishments.

But I wasn't hiding, that would be gutless. Even if I want nothing more to escape into the woods, to know that the people of District 9 could be free and to feel as though I could properly live my life.

The sight of my house fills me with relief and again I use the back entrance. I am lucky that no one is in the back room and after a quick change and wash I go back into the main room where the rest of my family gathers. I have decided not to wear the dress my mother laid out for me and instead put on a pair of dark brown trousers and a forest green blouse, something much more comfortable. To my delight my mother doesn't question my choice of clothing, however my absence has not gone un-noticed as I had hoped.

"Where have you been?" My mother starts "Sorry Mum, I just went out. For some fresh air." I reply, hoping she will not ask and more questions. "But you've been out in the fields all morning." I open my mouth to answer but am thankfully interrupted. "Anyway, hurry up. We don't want to be late!" I nod and quickly put my hair into a ponytail with two braids running down the side.

We make our way to the town's marketplace where a small stage bearing three chairs takes centre, two screens hanging either side. Tables of peacekeepers lay before us and my family are forced to separate.

I feel a sharp prick as bright red liquid floods my finger. A peacekeeper forces it onto a crisp white piece of card, my name already engraved. I am next directed to a group of girls with identical or similar ages to my own. Most of them I recognise from school or the market, some of them I would even consider to be my friends, but we avoid eye contact and conversation. That's the worst part of today, what it does to everyone. How it strikes fear into every soul and crushes families.

After everyone has been sorted into the gender and age related groups three people walk onto the stage. Two of them take a seat each but the other steps forward towards the microphone centre stage. As the tall, pale, blue haired man adjusts the stand everyone falls silent. Finally he speaks, giving us his usual Capitol dictated speech.

"I Inigo Wilfred, Capitol representative of District 9 can honestly say that as I look outwards onto all of these young faces I can see a fighter; a winner" His words hit me like hail; I know he doesn't mean it, if he knew what it was like then he wouldn't treat the reaping like this. But then how could he know; how could anyone from the Capitol understand; they have never had their names on one of those pieces of paper, they have never felt the pain to watch someone they love as young as twelve walk to their death.

"How about boys first, this time" I hear Inigo say and immediately I return my attention to the stage. He places his Capitol perfected hand into the bowl and pulls out an impeccably folded piece of parchment. I plead it's not Josh, I dread to think about how many times his name is in it this year, I know he's claimed for tesserae as much as possible and it angers me that his life might be at stake merely for extra grain and oil.

I can't close my eyes, even though I want to, I need to make sure.

"William Dennison".

A huge sense of relief fills my body and I almost feel the need to smile. But I can't, how can I, knowing that this boy has a 1 in 24 chance of returning alive, less if you count the training of the careers. I see someone from the other side of the crowd slowly walking up to the stage, his light brown hair reflecting the sunlight. I recognised him from school even though his name didn't trigger a memory, his face is pale and the silence is filled by grieving sobs from what I assume to be his mother.

I swallow and realise that the girls are next, as once again Inigo places his hand between a different collection of parchment my thoughts turn to my own welfare. I want to look at Josh but I stop myself. I can't let him think I am scared, I can't make him worry more than he already is.

A piece of parchment is raised to the air and is carefully opened, I await the worst. "Evanna Ambers".

It is.


	2. Chapter 2 - A trip to the Capitol

Chapter 2 – A trip to the Capitol

The next few moments are a sickening blur. Not knowing how, I walk up to the stage, trying not to lose my footing on the stairs. I swallow hard and take a deep, staggered breath. Inigo stretches out his hand to shake mine and I unwillingly oblige, desperatley trying to stop my hand from trembling.

I spot Josh, his face as pale as the boy's next to me. It fills me with pain and grief, I cannot bear to see him like this but I do not cry, I mustn't, not just for my own strength but for theirs. I think back to this morning, only hours ago we were in the fields, like normal. Now no matter what happens nothing will ever be the same.

I am next told to also shake hands with William and as I do our eyes meet with the same shock I feel pulsing through my body.

"So there we are, our two tributes!" Inigo announces, "As always I will now ask for any volunteers". Inigo doesn't wait long for reply from the lifeless cloud, and the deafening silence is of no surprise. Volunteers come but once in a lifetime in District 9.

I see the pain on Josh's face; I can't imagine how he must be feeling. Knowing there is nothing he can do but wait, and hope. But then I can hardly keep track of my own thought and feelings, trying to work out others is an impossible enigma.

A sickening sensation overwhelms my entire body, and my throat is becoming tighter with every second. I feel as though I am going to explode with a manner of emotions. I can feel my heart racing and fists clenching, I feel as though I am going to scream at the cameras that are confronting me, and at Inigo and all of the peacekeepers that are letting this happen. Encouraging it!

They have stood by year after year, and didnt even blink an eye a couple of years ago when two 12 years old were chosen, one with two younger siblings! Is this really the worst thing that could have happened? At least I have taken the place of what could have been someone much younger. I keep repeating this over and over in my mind trying to let it sink in and calm my nerves.

Pursing my lips I turn my head in Inigo's direction, but he is no longer standing proudly next to me, he is gone and so is William. I turn around to see that they are now leaving the stage and I am being instructed to follow.

A peacekeeper directs us to one of the market shops which has been embellished with banners of past games and victors. Me and William are separated and I am directed to a chair then told to await my family for a farewell, most likely my last. My head overflows with things I could possibly say, I don't know which to choose; but before long a peacekeeper enters accompanied by a tall boy with dirty blonde hair and emerald green eyes and a smaller but similar looking woman behind.

I stand up to greet them and turn to my mother first, her eyes are red and damp but she is no longer crying.

I think about my father, being too ill to attend the reaping he will not know about the events that await me. I hope that he stays strong, for my mother and brothers sakes as well as his health.

"It will be ok Mother" I tell her, but this seems to make it worse and tears flood down her cheeks as she flings her arms around my neck. I don't ever want to let go, my throat is raw with pain as I hold back the tears that are screaming to come out. I turn my gaze to my brother, who is still pale, I want to tell him not to worry but I know it won't help. "Water" he says. I raise my eyebrows with a look of confusion and he repeats.

"Water, that's your main priority. Find it and drink as much as you can. As for the cornucopia don't spend to long looking for weapons and supplies" his voice is shaking. "Grab whatever you can and get out; you can do this Evanna." I pause then nod with a faint reassuring smile.

He explains his other ideas, but most of it I do not take in. Everything is happening to fast. My mother manages a few sentences, but that is all.

My brother continues to speak, this time about sleeping. He seems panicked and this does not help my nerves at all. I don't ever want to leave them; how can they do this? Destroy lives and families. I begin to tell them not to worry, after all what is done is done - it is only the future that can change now. I tell my mother that all she can do now is be strong, even though I know this will not change anything. She looks as though she is going to reply but peacekeeper steps forward and insists that our time is up. I want to protest it but know that it will do no good. I hug my mother once more and as her grip loosens and I shout out my final goodbyes as they are escorted out of the dingy room into the bright square that seems so far away.

It finally dawns on me what my brother has said. I can do this. I could win; just because my name was picked does not mean that I have been condemned to an untimely death. A feeling of hope, however small fills my body, but it is short lived.

Twenty- three tributes will die over the next few weeks, either I will be one or I will be the cause of their death. The thought is intolerable, but I need to decide how far I will let these games change me, will I be a brutal as I need to be to survive? I'm sure that if the time came I could kill someone if I had to. But the thought of ruthlessly killing another child, a inncent victim of the Capitols hatred is sickening.

Another peacekeeper walks in, this time followed by William. Although his face has started to return to its peachy norm there is still a prominent white tinge about it. I look at him and give a faint smile which is not returned, I know he doesn't mean to be rude. I'm surprised I am able to move at all.

Yet again another person walks into the small and now crowded shop, this time someone who I recognise. A tall man of about 40, who I know to be Gerald Parchman, District 9's mentor. From now on he will play a big part in both mine and Williams's survival. He will aid us in training, tactics and perhaps most importantly sponsors, which can save tributes when they are just moments from death. I know it's important that Gerald's first impression of me is a positive one because without him I am on my own. I try to rid myself of all of my fear and stand up taller. We await his introduction but it never comes. Instead he looks around, as if inspecting us, his dark brown eyes searching for any glitches.

After what seems several minutes of silence and confusion, Gerald leaves the room and we are directed to follow. I hope to catch another glimpse of my family but a vehicle blocks anyone from view and we are herded inside.

The journey to the station is not long, I have never been here as it is forbidden for anyone to leave their district without permission, but it is not too different from what I had imagined. The trains are a magnificent silver with lines of maroon running down their sides; but the station does not reflect this and instead it has a run-down feeling that reminds me of home. The interior is just as spectacular and I let out a little gasp with our entrance. William stays quiet but he is certainly looking better.

In the first carriage there is a table already set. Covered in a beautiful silk cloth the table is piled with food beyond any dreams of mine. Trays of meat that would last my family weeks; piles of fruit bearing more colour than all of that in Ms Paige's material stall in the market; translucent flasks containing many liquids some I assume to be fruit juices, others of coffee. So this is the life of the Capitol I think to myself. If anything it has made my opinion of it worsen, something which I did not believe possible. We are directed to matching oak seats but are not joined by Gerald.

Little but polite requests and gestures are made at dinner and the atmosphere remains awkward. The arrival of Inigo is the only thing that seems to alter the mood. He seems cheerful despite today's events but I do not resent this as much as I thought I would, for some reason his happiness gives me hope I cannot explain. "So, your journey begins here." Inigo begins excitedly "I can tell you now that you are just going to love all of the costumes; and makeovers; and rooms; and food; and… and…" his naivety of our situation makes me feel strange and I don't know if I should be angry or just laugh it off. I smile politely but do not reply, and the silence resumes for a while.

"So, how much are you enjoying yourselves, so far?" he continues. I can't help but choke slightly on my mouthful of what I believe to be chicken. How could we possibly be enjoying ourselves? At least one of us will never see our families again; his cheerfulness no longer helping me. I want to shout at him; let him really know how I am feeling but something stops me.

I understand that he doesn't mean to be insensitive, how can he know what it's like? How can anyone until their name has been read out. I politely reply back with a quiet "Sure, thanks" and cast my gaze back to my plate which is almost empty for a third time. "Well" Inigo begins again, "it has been a long day, so I bid you good night" William and I both remain silent and Inigo leaves without a reply, to what I assume is his quarters.

"He's got that right." Startled I look up at William not sure what to say, I hadn't expected him to speak at all this evening. "Got what right" I say even though I am sure what he means. "It's certainly been a long day" he continues and I return my gaze downwards. I don't want to think about it, at least not yet. I need it to sink in first.

"I heard your brother" he continues, but I do not yet lift my head. "Telling you about tactics. I didn't get that from my parents. They don't expect me to return, I know they don't and to be honest neither do I." This time I feel it is important I look at him.

"You don't know that" I begin "None of us know; about the careers, the weapons, the training, the arena; no one but the people at the Capitol at least." I wish to continue but struggle to find the right thing to say.

"I guess" he mumbles and the silence resumes.

"Well I'm off to bed, good night, Evanna" William sighs finally, and what seems to be rather suddenly he leaves the carriage just as the others had done. I wish he hadn't spoken; now there's more for me to think about. I told myself that if I was ever chosen I wouldn't get attached to people, I was glad when William didn't speak, it made everything easier, but then he could hardly stay silent forever.

As for Gerald I had hoped for more. Without his guidance our little chance of returning will be lost. I can only hope that tomorrow will bring more conversation and leadership. I get up to leave before realizing I do not know where I will be staying. I follow the way that both Inigo and William left and hope I will come across a sign of some sorts. A compartment with a plaque reading District 9 tribute is empty and so I assume it has been left for me.

Inside there is a large single bed with a thick mattress and cover, a set of draws filled with clothes of all sorts lies next to it and I find something which looks to be comfortable. The bed is as luxurious as it appears. My head sinks into the soft pillow and it is not long until I am asleep. It seems todays' events have tired me out.

The next morning I wake but my eyes do not open. The soft cover has fallen slightly but I am still as comfortable as ever. I am reminded of yesterday's events and wish them not to be real, I want to keep my eyes closed forever, I want it only to be a dream. But I decide this will do no good. My eyes open only for me to find that I am in the same compartment in which I had fallen asleep.

After my first proper hot shower, a luxury I will gladly now get to experience more often, I look through the draws and get changed; finishing it with my usual tattered jacket. It is the only part of my old life I have left and I refuse to be parted with it. I find a comb and run it through my long blond hair; then quickly assembling it into my usual ponytail I make my way back to the dining carriage.

The oak table still takes centre but looks exceedingly smaller with now three people sitting around it. I feel annoyed that I am the last to join, but I do not let this show and I take my seat opposite William. I start to pile up my plate and pour a glass of the purest looking orange juice of which little I have seen. Conversation appears scarce once again and everyone keeps to themselves.

After about 10 minutes of almost silent eating, Gerald finally speaks, and it appears as though some of my questions may finally be answered. "There are many things you need to know about the Hunger Games." He starts, as all eyes gaze upon him instantly.

"Most importantly you should know that it is not just the strongest of tributes that win, but wisdom also serves extremely useful." Me and William exchange glances. I listen to every one of Gerald's words attentively; holding onto every word in hope that it will ready me for what's to come.

"Try to stay away from the careers whilst training, the last thing you want is for them to make you there priority victim, so don't do anything that may antagonise them. However just because they have had training for this do not let them blind you into thinking you have no chance, you should not fear them as much as you may begin to, after all they have had no experience of what it is really like, nothing can prepare you for what's to come, and they are tributes just like yourself."

Gerald's words seem wise, however I feel that some of what he is saying it not entirely true. After all almost every year a career tribute is crowned champion; it's not surprising, being trained from a young age and then volunteering; they must know they are likely to win.

My thoughts are interrupted as the carriage becomes darker. We must being going through a tunnel, and before Gerald is able to continue a large city comes into view as the carriage is once again flooded with light.

We have arrived.


	3. Chapter 3 - Tributes

**Chapter 3 - Tributes**

As the city begins to draw closer I can feel the train gradually slowing from its rocketing speed, but my head continues to spin like never before.

The new station is far different from the one in District 9. Cleaner, brighter; new paint, as if no one had laid a finger on it until today. The atmosphere has also taken a considerable change, the painful last goodbyes have now been replaced with echoeing cheers and ignorant laughs. It was as if this really was a cause for celebration. People looked so excited; so happy; so unaware of what it is like for us.

It scares me how different this all is from what I expected, I mean, I knew about the flamboyant clothes, eccentric coloured hair; and this was certainly as I had imagined. They look like as if a pot of paint had been thrown carelessly over each and every one of them and that they had just stuck a few feathers and anything they could find that sparkled on their heads. But I had always though they would have felt slightly sorry for us, even if they were not prepared to do anything about it. But now I see, I see they don't care what happens to me, as long as I bring them a good show then they will be quite content.

Someone in particular catches my eye. A small boy waving frantically with one hand as the other clasps onto what I assume is his father's arm.

I this what it is really like for them? Does the idea of 23 children dying not make them feel sickened? How can this child be happy; happy to be seeing someone that is more than likely to be dead in less than a few weeks' time?

I look over at William, but he is no longer at the window next to me. In fact he is no longer in the carriage, and neither is Gerald.

"Come on Evanna, no time is to be wasted!" I hear Inigo insist; I leave the window and walk towards the door he is half out of. "Come on" he urges, directing his hand outside, but I do not go any faster.

I have no urge to go outside; I don't want to meet the others, I just want to stop. Stop and think about what is happening, think about what I will do. I need to prepare my mind, just block out the fact that all of these people here want to see my bloody death in the comfort of their own homes.

I step out onto the bright square, Inigo whispering in my ear as I do so, "Don't forget to smile."

But this doesn't help at all. I know how important it is to seem likable to the Capitol, for this is where the sponsors will come from, due to their expense and the little wealth of the districts. But the more I force my cheeks into a smile the tighter they become.

Luckily we are not on the station long, guarded by peacekeepers I am directed to a tall expensive looking building and meet with William and Gerald. The room is even more glorious than the train, its pale marble floor reflecting the peacekeepers suits. I look around to see if I can spot anyone from other districts; even if my mind tells me to keep myself to myself.

No one comes into my view and even on my tiptoes I cannot see over the peacekeepers. William nudges me and my attention returns to Gerald, he is talking about our accommodation but so far all I know is that we are on the ninth floor. As for training, it starts in two days. Until then we have the opening parade, one of my chances for me to make an impression on the people of the Capitol.

I'm not sure how well I will be at that, at home I wasn't popular and that was around people like myself. Here I have to seem likable around people who are my opposite, who will never understand what we have been through, people who I cannot help but averse.

We are led to our room by a small red headed girl, which I would guess is not much older than myself. As the others enter our level I turn to say thank you but receive no reply. It wasn't until later I realize that she may have been an avox, muted for an act against the Capitol.

As the door opens to our room I am shocked with something far larger and more magnificent then I had expected. At least twice the size of my family house the main room was packed with bright furniture and abstract art deco. We are directed by Inigo to a large emerald coloured table with 6 chairs surrounding it. Again I sit opposite William and we are told to help ourselves to the many plates of food that lay in front of us.

I eat as much as I think my stomach will hold, not just because I'm hungry but perhaps because I think it will make me stronger for the games. I have grown rather fond of a sparkling orange drink but after my second glass I find it is making me feel sick and so I decide to just have water like William, who doesn't seem to have much of an appetite.

The delectable platters of meats and othe savory delights are replaced with bowls of trifles, fruits of the most exotic kind and cakes of all colours. I have never tried the majority of dishes that sit before me and I do not wish to prolong this mystery much longer. Every sweet and fattening mouthful makes me feel sick but still I enjoy every bite.

After an over satisfying lunch Inigo tells us about the rest of today's plans, we are to meet our stylists in one hour and get ready for tonight's parade; the idea makes me feel slightly sick. I've only seen the opening parade a few times as it is on quite late and often everyone is too depressed to watch. But of the times I have I know that I will not enjoy it. Although the show is a beautiful affair, I can't imagine how daunting it is for the tributes; having thousands of eyes watching over you as you are paraded like pigs for slaughter.

Normally tributes are dressed in outfits that reflect the work of their districts. Ours being grain the tributes from District 9 never usually look the best but then we are rarely highlighted in the parade or throughout the games at all really. Our tributes usually get very average training scores and we have only ever had two victors, Gerald being the only one still surviving.

Thinking about Gerald we have still received no more advice since we left the train, the thought of other tributes being tutored right now and getting an advantage annoys me, so abruptly I leave the table to join him on the large orange cushiony chair on the other side of the room.

"So, about the cornucopia, what would you prioritize?" I start, hoping he will know what I want him to answer with. "A good question, as you will probably know majority of fatalities happen on the first day, in the bloodbath that surrounds the cornucopia. My advice is that you don't go for weapons as your priority," Gerald explains "a pack is the best way to go in my opinion, everyone thi…" "But surely a weapon should be what you search for first" William interrupts; his voice making me jump. "How else are you going to defend yourself? Hit them over the head with a rucksack?"

I dislike Williams's manner, Gerald is there to help us and as for what he is saying, I think it has a lot more sense. After all majority of people die of natural causes if not in the bloodbath. I turn to William to reply but find there is no need when Gerald does instead.

"Although they may not be the best in self-defence; they can come very useful with your survival. A bottle may be all you need to save you a few days of dehydration; or a sheet, which can protect you against the harsh conditions that may lay ahead. Tell me this; can a weapon keep you warm? Can it provide you with water? Protect you from insects?" William bows his head. "Of course they're important. All I am saying is that there are more important things to consider first." Gerald continues. "That's the advantage you have over the careers, most often they are like you William, believe that strength and the best weapons are most important"

"But that's just contradicting what you have just said, after all, a career is almost always crowned victor!" I interrupt, feeling that Gerald is being very biased on his advice, I know that his victory may not have relied to heavily on weaponry, but majority of others have. "Yes, and I am not saying you should completely disregard any weapons. What I was about to say I that their main threat is their strong allies. Together as a pact they are strong, very strong indeed. If you can get allies don't hesitate. But beware is you are successful make sure they are genuine; there's nothing worse than getting impaled in the night by someone who you thought you could trust."

I look over at William, who is now standing; a confused expression on his face. "I will make no allies. I refuse to rely on someone who either I will have to betray or they will me." My gaze moves back to Gerald. Although I feel that William is not being very open to other ideas, I do have to agree with what he is saying. I do not want to make friends here either.

"Quickly everyone! They're broadcasting the reaping's." Inigo interrupts, I turn around to find him sat down on another seat opposite the table, this time a purple one. He is facing a large screen where Caesar Flickerman is presenting today's event, his silvery blue hair matching his clean crisp suit.

"Now a quick introduction to our tributes, a moment you have all been waiting for I'm sure" roars Caesar as the large crowd cheers and drowns out his voice. "Let's start with District 1 as always- from the luxury district we have Lilia Whetherell, 18 and Kurt Rozek, 18" there is another cheer from the audience as a picture of a short brown haired girl and a much taller black haired boy are shown on the large screens that surround the stadium. Both of them looking considerably older and tougher than myself. I look to William but his gaze does not move from the television, he looks concerned and I wonder if I should to. They are after all two of my biggest competitors; I should be concerned, shouldn't I? But then maybe Gerald's right, if I don't have any belief in myself then my battle will be lost before it has even begun.

For some reason I do not feel much at all, no hatred, no resent, and my fear for them seems to have been worn out by the other happenings that I have recently encountered. It is announced that both tributes are volunteers, like district one tributes normally are and Caesar moves onto the second pair this time from district two.

"From the Masonry district – Rienna Lofton, 17 and Arturo Osby, 18" Again there is another cheer from the crowd and it is revealed that both are volunteers when two portraits are projected on the screens.

The introductions continue and me and William soon find out the names of all of our other opponents.

District 3 – Pansy Roselle and Storm Delbert

District 4 – Felecia Ruffo and Peter Roland

District 5 – Katheryn Smithwick and Robin Stenzel

District 6 – Carissa Callas and Malcolm Rowling

District 7 – Sharlene Loman and Gerald Turton

District 8 - Dianne Hannerman and Dexter Bruen

District 9 – Evanna Ambers and William Dennison

I look at my pale face on the screen, it's like looking at someone else, I can no longer recognise myself. My emerald green eyes are the only thing that do not seem different, it reminds me of my brother; I wonder if he is watching, how he's feeling, how my mother is, how my father has taken the news. I never imagined that it would ever come to this, that I would ever be chosen.

It continues...

District 10 – Melisa Winzer and Clinton Farrell

District 11 – Esmeralda Levens and Darren Glassford

District 12 – Eliza Halford and Cormac Hanshaw

There is a final cheer and all of the tributes reaping portraits are shown once again on screen, two of them being only twelve. I think about how I am feeling then turn my thoughts to theirs, they must be even more shocked then I am; how can the Capitol do this to children so young? To anyone in fact?

Then it hits me again; these games are real; the Capitol does not care of our ages, of our feelings and thoughts. There is no point in thinking about what could have been; what we use to have; only one of us will be alive at the end and I if I want it to be me then I'm going to have to fight.


	4. Chapter 4 - Ribbons and Curls

**Chapter 4 – Ribbons and Curls**

Within an instant the television turns black as Inigo presses a small red button on the remote. I try to stay calm but the vile cheers are still echoing through my mind. Slowly I rise from my chair and turn to face the others, "Err, where is my room?" I ask Inigo. I try to keep my voice strong but I can sense a stutter about it and hope that it does not make me look scared or weak. "It's the one over there" he answers pointing over at a large cream door on the other side of the spacious room. "You'll find clothes that should fit you in the draws and there is a shower too. But there's not much point changing or washing now, seeing as the stylists will do all that when they get her in…" looking down at his beautiful iridescent watch he finishes "goodness, only 20 minutes!" "Thank-you" I answer, "I won't be long, I just want to look around I guess".

I don't wait for a reply but walk quickly over to the door. With an effortless push it opens and I stumble in. The sight is magnificent; a warm maroon colour covers the back wall, a large soft bed lying beneath it. I walk up to it and lie down. As my body sinks into the mattress my stress and anxiety seems to lessen and the feeling is one I do not want to leave. Everything today has seemed to have gone so quickly. Before I know it, it will be the cornucopia facing me instead of the cream door I have just walked through. Before long I will either be starving for food and water or dead before the famish has had chance to take me.

My deep thoughts force me to get up and think about something different, I continue to look around the room. The bathroom that leads off from it is the cleanest I have seen with hundreds of buttons, each either letting off a fruit scented shower cream, flower scented mist of some other weird and overpowering liquid. Everywhere there are also numbers of hidden gadgets; a light by the bed that turns on by voice; a large screen that takes up one of the walls, one that I can change the image on after working out how to do so.

In one of the many draws there is a smart brown suede jacket that I like the look of. I go to try it on by the mirror in the corner of the room, but I still don't want to be parted with the one I have. I place my hands in my pockets and observe myself in the mirror; I'm not particularly big, and although I don't look that weak or small; next to the careers I do not compare. I move my hand around in my pocket feeling the harsh grain seeds and other rubbish there is in there. As I take it out something catches my eye. I pull out a piece of dark red ribbon; almost identical to the colour on the wall behind me.

I found it a few weeks ago in the market square. It probably came from Ms Paige's material stall, but I found it near a drain, its colour attracting my eye. Red has always been one of my favourite colours, in some weird way it helps me find strength and courage; it reminds me to keep fighting.

I smooth out the ribbon between my fingers and tie it around my ponytail, double knotting it so it stays in place. I glance back in the mirror but the sensation it fills me with tells me to move away.

It's so strange, that's what I can't get over. How strange it is to see myself on the television; to be here, in the Capitol; not to be with my family. I would do anything just to see them again, feel their warmth, and see them smile. I can't imagine how they must feel; I know that many of the tributes families stay at home for a day or two after the reaping; but it is no longer than that. People can't afford it you see, not with the little money and food there is, without work and income we face almost certain starvation.

A soft knock on the door disrupts my thoughts and I open it onto William who tells me the stylists have arrived. We are brought to the middle of the room where eight new people have joined our company. They all look as peculiar and colourful as Inigo; all with the most unnatural of hair colours and eccentric clothing. One is even wearing a bird shaped bow on their head, which seems to engulf most of it. I hold back a snigger and change my expression so that it appears as though I am intently listening even though I'm not.

Gerald tells us that we will return here in an hour or two where we will have a quick talk about the rest of the evening, his reminder making me feel queasy. For now we are to go with the stylist's and their prep teams. I learn that the name of my stylist and costume designer is called Marissa and my prep team of three are called Theola, Roland and Ozella.

Marissa seems okay for someone from the Capitol. She has a kind look and her light blue eyes remind me of the summer days in the fields. Her matching blue lips have been covered in a indigo coloured glitter and her eyelids have been painted so that they go from a dark blue into a light teal.

William is being introduced to his stylist and prep team and then we are lead out of the room, down to what I can only assume is a floor underground.

The lift doors open and my eyes are bombarded by a number of bright lights, all coming from small rooms which have been sectioned off from one another, running down long corridor. "William, you will go with Darrel, and Evanna, you with Marissa" Says Inigo from behind us "I will return back in 80 minutes".

I follow Marissa to a nearby room and am told to sit on the blue patient like bed. Theola, Roland and Ozella open the door soon after and I am properly introduced to them all. "As you know Evanna, I am your main stylist and fashion designer; I will provide you with your costume for tonight." Marissa explains, "Theola" she points to the woman on the right, her bird bow slightly wilting now "is in charge or waxing and eyebrows" I cringe slightly at the thought but try to keep a straight face. "Roland is your hairdresser" The short man in front of me smiles; I thought he would be in charge of hair, seeing how fantastic his is. It starts off blue and slowly goes into a dark purple colour, but as it does so it seems to sparkly in the light, probably due to some sort of special concoction that Capitol people use. "Finally Ozella, she will do your make up" the last woman nods her head, but does not crack a smile, she seems very stern and does not look like someone to cross.

"Now" Roland begins, grabbing a clump of my long blonde hair as he does so, "perhaps a cut?", as he says this my eyes widen. My hair has always been long, and without it I really would look like someone else. "Okay" Roland says calmly, obviously noticing my dislike to the idea, "just a trim. Actually I think that would be best, yes… yes I know something I could do" I smile in confusion but Roland doesn't return it, he picks up a nearby notebook and walks out of the room in rather a hurry. Marissa is next to examine me, "First we need to get her completely clean" she takes my hand and shows it to Theola, " her hands and nails for example; sponsors' will want clean and tidy tributes." she lets go of my hand and this time I examine it, it's not that muddy, not to me anyway. Theola nods and walks toa cupboard at the other side of the small room.

Ozella doesn't bother to examine me any closer, but instead tells Marissa that she has a general idea and is going to get a few things first. I get the feeling she hasn't warmed to me quite like the others; but seeing as my first impression of her hasn't been too good either it doesn't bother me too much.

I am told to remove my jacket, but I specifically ask that it does not get thrown away. I take my hair down and let it roll down my shoulders, keeping the ribbon tight in my hand, but Marissa spots it. "What's this?" She asks "Oh, it's just um. Something from home" I answer, not sure what to say. "It's a beautiful colour" Theola interrupts. "Yes, it is. Do you mind if I borrow this?" Marissa asks. "Not at all, but could I um…" "Don't worry, you will get it back" she answers before I have chance to finish, I smile and hope what she says is true. I'm not usually sentimental but for some reason I can't imagine losing it now, rather like my jacket.

After a series of hot water and steam showers, each as magnificent as the next, I feel the cleanest I have ever done. Next my hair is blow dried and brushed, and my skin is lathered with many oils and creams leaving it silky smooth. The feeling is strange, I feel as though I'm being turned into a Capitol citizen, no longer are my hands rough from the field work; my hair no longer tangled and messy. These games really will try to change me, but I can't let them, not completely. If I'm going to die then I am going to go down fighting, but not as someone I'm not.

After the torturous pain of waxing and plucking Theola is finally finished and it is time for Roland to finish my hair. He quickly trims the ends, getting rid of some of the many split ends it has. It is washed again and many sprays and creams are applied to it until it seems everything in the bright room has been used. "I will finish it later, before the parade" Roland explains. I nod as once again he leaves the room. Now it was only Ozella to go, as she approached with a tray of many liquids and powders we avoided eye contact.

"It will be a basic base coat that I will do now, the rest I will finish later after your hair and costume have been sorted" she informs me, yet again I nod but don't speak. She covers my face in a coat of skin coloured cream and keeps on applying it in different places on my face. After what seemed ages she picks up a pencil and tells me to look up. I dislike the feeling the pencil has on my eye lid, when I blink it irritates my eyes and makes them feel heavy. She applies a black liquid to my eyelashes and powders to my cheeks. "There, I will see you later to finish off. I will fetch Melissa now" states Ozella as she packs away all of her utensils and heads out the door like the others had done.

I look over to the mirror, my face looks smooth and even; and my eyes look a lot darker. In a way I think that it looks nice, makes me look pretty even; but I can't get over the feeling it gives me.

A knock at the door marks the arrival of Inigo and I am taken out of the room, grabbing my jacket as I do so. William is waiting outside and looks almost as different as I do. He no longer has dirt dug underneath his finger nails and his light brown hair looks darker and has been carefully styled so that it looks neat but not too tame. For one of the first times since we have been here he smiles at me, "Well, there's certainly an improvement" he chuckles, his smile widening as he does so. "Wish I could say the same for you" I joke; now smiling as well.

I feel it is the first time I have properly smiled here as well, for some reason my anxiety lessens and I am reminded that although I may feel as alone as ever, there are others just like me. William will find this different as well, I'm sure he detests what is happening just as I do.

"Hurry along now, we don't have much time" insists Inigo. We are to go and see Gerald now where we will find out more about this evenings plan. With a quick trip in the lift we reach floor 9 again and it is not long before we are back in the main room.

Gerald starts by telling us that we will meet the stylists down by the stadium at 6:00 PM, only 25 minutes from now. We are told that the best thing we can do is to smile, that's what the audience loves. I'm not sure how well I will be able to smile when I'm out there, but I will try my best, I must.

"Now, you two will need to stand out, because ordinarily people do not look much at districts 5-12. Actually it's only the careers that are always noticed. Just do what you can; it might not seem so important now but when the time comes and you are in desperate need of something, you will be glad if you have Capitol citizens supporting you." Gerald explains. Me and William nod to show that we understand what must be done. My nerves of the parade have surprisingly lessened but what I am more concerned about now is meeting the other tributes. It will be the first time I will get a proper look at them, and I don't want to be shown off in a bad light. I've decided that my plan is to stay out of the careers way. It's not because I fear them, I just know that from the past games I have seen people who cross the careers are targeted first, and I do not see the point in making myself a target when I don't need to.

The minutes that lead up to 6 o clock rushed past and not long after Gerald had explained this evening's plan Marissa and Darrel arrive and we take yet again another trip in the lift where conversation is scarce. At the stadium entrance we are directed to a series of rooms rather like the ones we were made up in, this is where me and William are separated to change. I don't know what to expect with my costume, usually District 9's are not the prettiest or the ones that stand out the most, so really I'm not expecting much.

"If you wait here I will go and get your costume" Marissa explains, a slight sense of excitement in her voice. She has changed her clothes too, so now she wears a long blue dress with large ruffles around the skirt, one of the more normal outfits of which I have seen here. I do not have to wait long, soon Marissa is back, with a large bag on her arm; Theola, Roland and Ozella follow behind. Before opening the bag Marissa hands me back my ribbon and asks that I keep hold of it whilst everything else is sorted out. I sit there watching them all, not wanting to move or talk, just observe as I await what is to come.

"Oh I love this part!" Theola squeals.

"Stand up please Evanna" Marissa asks. I get up and walk over towards the bag. "Normally I will tend to go for a light yellow colour with the costumes, but I decided to do something different this year, maybe change will serve you well." Inside the bag is a large, ruffled, dark maroon dress, with a beautifully embroiled golden trim which crawls up it. "Do you like it?" Marissa asks me. "It's lovely" I answer, feeling the fabric in my hand.

It wasn't exactly my dream costume, but it was certainly better than what I had expected. The dress is adjusted and I am helped into it. The golden tread appears to be present almost over the entire dress and from a distance looks like tiny grain seeds, the back is slightly longer and nearly trails along the floor whilst a large ruffle of material diagonally travels up it until the shoulder strap. It's not the most comfortable of dresses but I never imagined it would be.

"Now, if this has been made correctly we only need to adjust the light to what it will be in the stadium and…" Marissa mumbles to herself whilst fiddling with the light switch. "Ahah" she exclaims as the light dims, "Wow" "Oh well done Marissa" I hear the others whisper, "What is it?" I ask, failing to notice the difference. "In the mirror" Roland urges. I turn around and look at myself in the mirror, this time seeing something even more fascinating. The dress almost sparkles in the light, each of the grain like threads glowing magnificently.

They are right, it was an amazing sight. But right now my mind was less concerned with how I looked and more focused on the things that awaited me. But I turn to thank Marissa and the others kindly nevertheless.

"It's my job" she answers returning my smile. "Now just a few more finishing touches" she adds.

I watch them all intently, rushing around picking up different things on the way. I think about doing something, I want to keep myself busy, not over think things. But I do not move, instead I stand in the middle of the room thinking about everything that has happened. Now it is me and the games, and I must focus if I want to have a fair chance of every returning home.

My make-up is quickly applied so my lips are covered in a bright gold glitter and my eyelids are a rich maroon colour. Roland turns to me next and tends to my hair, putting it into a loose bun and covering it with a gold spray; finishing it with a large golden clip and a golden tiara like headdress which resembles the grain we harvest in the fields and covers a vast amount of my head.

Theola takes my wrist and ties on my ribbon, then adding a large gold bracelet on both wrists to finish. The tributes always wear either fancy headdress or jewellery and the weight of them weighs me down slightly.

"Oh doesn't she look wonderful" exclaims Theola, her brilliant white teeth shining through her purple lipstick. I can feel myself blush slightly as I give her a faint smile. As an announcement echoes through the room telling tributes to assemble near the stadium entrance we walk and meet with William and his stylists again.

"Nice dress" William begins. He is wearing a matching maroon costume with golden embroidery around the sleeves and shoulders. "Not sure it's my colour" He laughs, his golden crown like helmet slipping slightly as he does so. "Nice hat!" I smile, I sound a lot happier than I really feel, I dont want it to look like these games are getting to me I refuse to look weak. Before William can reply our attention is taken by two other people who have come out of one of the remaining rooms, a small black haired girl wearing a silver suit and a much taller boy wearing a similar outfit. "They're from district 5" Roland whispers, Dominic Goucher is their stylist, argh, such an annoying little man" he complains. But I am not listening, I look at them both and a weird sensation fills my body. More tributes arrive and I watch each and every one of them, some in pink, some in gold, some purple, two are even in a bright green costume with huge headdress' that almost covers their faces completely.

I learn that the ones in purple are from district one; two of the careers. They both look as tough as they did in their portraits, but it does not concern me as much as I thought it would.

I scan around once more at my opponents but a tall boy of probably 14 or 15 with dark brown hair looks over and sees me staring. I look back to William and hope he has stopped looking but when I turn around he hasn't, instead he just stands there. I wonder what he has found funny as he is now starting to smirk, but soon forget about it as we are lead onto the chariots that are lined up for us. Each of the carts are being pulled by two jet black horses, which remind me of Merlin.

"You nervous?" William asks me as we stand behind the District 8 tributes "A bit, but nothing I won't get over" I answer. "Are you nervous?". "A bit, but nothing I can't get over" he answers smiling slightly, but I can tell he's hiding something.

"And now, it gives me great pleasure to welcome each and every one of our tributes to our fine stadium. If you would please give a round of applause you will see them in the flesh for the very first time." A huge cheer follows Caesars announcement and the horses begin to move through the open doors into the grand arena.

"Don't forget to smile!"


End file.
